Archive for the ‘poem’ Category

Covfefe

June 10, 2017

It’s a noun. It’s an adjective.  This is my objective and subjective
covert midnight objective.  For those who think they know me- Covfefe.

In Pennsylvania I’m the steel, coal in West Virginia, in Michigan I’m
the wheel, in Wisconsin the cheese and the real deal. Rushing to try
to stop me or Russian to try and block me.  I’d like to say fuck you.
Instead I’ll say Covfefe.

Yes I’m the commander, the chief and El Jefe I can tweet-
lasejfldkfjalsd and tell you it’s Icelandic.  Anyone who tweets this
late is manic but I have plans for you so…  Covfefe.

Homey- You don’t know me or own me.  Trying to stop me by building a
wall with James Comey.  It won’t slow me on my way to infamy. What’s
the conclusion?  No collusion.  Democratic arsonists smell smoke and I
think it’s a joke.  They want to break me, bend me, ABC, CBS and CNN
me…  Bitch, get out the way- Covfefe

Paris ain’t Pittsburg, London or Hamburg.  I got news for the French,
Dutch and Merkle…  You’ll find I’m a little tougher than former
President Urkel.  I sleep well and what you think of me matters very little
to me…  So now you know… Covfefe.

1-20-2017

January 18, 2017

Pendulum, conundrum, electorate- ho- hum, persuaded and dumb.  Where
did this come from?
Crazy, frightening yet strong.   Simply put simplistic and genius with
a finger on the pulse tapping in to that, which is wrong with us. A
clown to some and they laughed but it was never meant to be funny.
Money, wealthy, ballsy billionaire.  People of color scared of the
unpredictable. Patriotic, simplistic people waving a flag awaiting the
arrival of the despot, in the best spot, at the best time- finally as
ludicrous as revolutionary, scary, obnoxiously brilliant- Americans
are many things but are they resilient?

The modern Prometheus?  What is this success?  Fascist? Genius?
Childish and clueless? Powerful and forceful, bold and amazing the
nasty hero of silent plurality in manicured, sanitized for your
protection suburban subdivisions in search of change of something
outspoken and blunt, unqualified, unbelievable, unstable,
unpresidential somewhere beyond the strip malls.  A clever, vulgar,
realist, opportunistic bombast of a new class- brash and crass.  The
ugly American uber alles.  Better to be feared than loved by the
progressives, the new recessives clinging to the coasts focused on
talking headed arrogance on news television.  A new shrewd, yet lewd,
entertaining aggressive who saved the republic- ans from going the way
of the dinosaurs.  Like Brexit, will he fix it as part of a horribly
refreshing nightmare of less kind and less gentler future?  “Sorry,
this is complicated business…”

Nietzsche Beside Me

September 14, 2016

The seconds tick matched up against my heart. Driving past the point where it starts. It feels like a hundred degrees, sweat drips down my back as I try to breathe, try to remember all the other Septembers. There’s a home in my heart from way back when I was given speed to help me slow down to think. The head gets weak and then the heart speaks. I went back to find them all knowing they’re gone. Perhaps the things I inherited are no longer suitable, no longer practical. I tried to slay the windmills from across the land from my head to my heart. I may never get tired of living, sharing a smile, a laugh captured in a moment. Life is a scent that won’t ever let you down. I want to steal back the things I thought would always be mine captured in the resin of time. Autumn comes in waves of warmth and cold. The warm sun and a cold breeze I remember this all of my life and can close my eyes and nothing changes. There is something there between the things I love and despair. Happiness and sadness as old friends on a park bench as they hold hands in a quest to understand why we exist. Maybe everything is nothing.

240 and Counting

July 4, 2016

Independence- 240 years and the descendants celebrate with wings, malt liquor and parades.  Bill of Rights and the rights of the dead, a bullet piercing the side of the head somewhere on the west side, south side, Chicago’s apartheid red line zone where the tourists never go.  But I digress- this is a process of processed food, entertainment and education.  Back when we were all English and white, on paper the ideas seemed right- Liberty and justice for all… or maybe some or none.  Manifest destiny, all for you and me from sea to shining sea.  You’re free above this line and slave below this one.  A war between brothers and in the end freedom with an asterisk- there was a fix.  You give us the presidency and we’ll look the other way for nearly a 100 years til someone refuses to give up a seat, sit where they want when they choose to eat, vote, protest and integrate, separate but equal became the Civil War sequel.  Well I’ve jumped ahead again.  The Kaiser, Sarajevo, trench warfare, mustard gas the rise of the working class.  Comrades in a sea of red, the Czar was dead.  The treaty left them angry and needy after reparations of Versailles a charismatic character, a director, a rector sold the scape goat- many die and why?  A bomb to stop a war and within a few years a little more and a truce that lasts til this day.

Unbridled growth and prosperity, suburbs and the interstate, sock hops and roller skates.  We liked Ike and then came JFK, Bay of Pigs, assassins and then LBJ and the KKK.  Just advisors to advise those who love and cherish democracy, imperial imposition of freedom for Vietnam.  Baby killers, draft dodgers, free love, and women’s lib.  Drugs and Nixon, the fix was in.  Watergate, oil crisis, a cancer on the presidency, end the war with dignity.  Ford, Carter Reagan- morning again in America.  This aggression will not stand- draw a line in the sand, new world order, Perot, Clinton, stained dress, Clarence Thomas/Anita Hill congressional hearings on the hill.  W, 9-11, weapons of mass destruction, mission accomplished, quagmire, Afghanistan/Taliban=Vietnam, Obama, Osama, Arab spring, ISIS, crisis of confidence, we’ll build a wall for our defense, terrorists, xenophobia, first woman presidential candidate, with shadows of doubt…  Stalin, Hitler, Pol Pot… Wait!  This just in…  Citizen Trump

And Justice For All

December 16, 2015

 

                Hang the flags perpetually at half-mast- every day a crisis

                NRA Card member or those among us who join Isis

                The reactionary fears arms closed, the liberal embraces eyes blind

                What we find in the quagmire is a desire for someone to come and lead

                Feed the electorate a new poll, detract away from the hole of

                Economics gives way to Islamics, tactics of the feckless and the reckless

                The new red scare finding fanatics everywhere that the radical facts are    

Empirical

                Isolation resuscitation cooperation dissemination to save a nation

                Refuge or not to refuge refuse the nuclear centrifuge

                Weather or whether- it’s all huge and looms like a mushroom cloud

Chicago’s Finest… At a Bad Time

December 13, 2015

               

                “Every damn cop that ever fired a shot at something or someone will have a hearing…  Am I fucking clear to you?  All cops who ever pulled their gun out will have their day in court. Dig up everything you can find before others do and we will have a special committee to hear every case…  DON’T STAND HERE LOOKING FUCKING DUMB!  GET TO WORK!”

                And so it was that every cop alive that ever pulled or fired a gun, was put in front of a Chicago tribunal.  Those willing to purge themselves of wrong doing, might be able to keep their jobs if it was found that the lives of the officers were in danger.  It was sort of a truth and reconciliation tribunal like South Africa had after apartheid whereby white officers went before a commission and apologized for wrong doing and then went on with life without penalty.  Why?  So that the mayor could keep his job.

                The city called in the Altgeld 20.  Altgeld Gardens as it was called, was a housing project where poor African-Americans lived.  It was named after a former German born Governor of the State of Illinois.  Nobody in the early 2000s gave a shit about the name of their blighted housing project.  It was bordered by landfills, steel mills and constructed during a time when asbestos was widely used in the construction of the buildings.

 The police got a tip that the Gangster Disciples were gun fighting with the Black Disciples.  Why?  Drugs, territory, territory to sells drugs, retribution and so on.  Ten squad cars raced in a line down 130th Street towards where the gun fighting was taking place.  It was alleged that four innocent men were gunned down by police that night. The four innocent men were gang members who terrorized the residence of Altgeld Gardens.  This fight took place nearly ten years earlier and was captured on a VHS recorder from a window.  On the film, you can see the mostly white cops surrounding and shooting the gang members in a clearing among buildings, like fish in a barrel.  Anyone who did not drop their weapon immediately was shot.  It was the commission’s belief that none of the officer’s lives were in danger and for that reason, at a minimum, all who took place in the murders, should be fired and their pensions taken away.   Residents of Altgeld Gardens took turns reading accounts of the confrontation that day.  The last to speak was a little old woman by the name of Dorothy.  Dorothy had the same hair style that she wore back in the 1950’s.  She was a tiny old woman in a nice dress and a pill box hat held in with hair pins.  She sat on the witness stand with white gloves covering her hands and her purse on her lap.  She smiled a serene smile and waited her turn to speak.  The whole crowd of angry protestors and former neighbors of the since closed housing development laughed at what Ms. Dorothy had to say.

                “Now y’all fixin to crucify all these here officers.  Nevah the mind dat we killin each other an little ones who happen to git in the way.  There one man among all these officers who never pulled his gun and wadn’t even part the whole ordeal…  Officer Miller…  You want to tell them all or should I?”

                Officer Miller looked down and picked at a loose thread on his cuff.  He had a hard time looking at Dorothy or any other of the people in the room.  Officer Miller was horrified by what was about to be said about him.

                “Well then…  He won’t talk, I will.  I was watching ma television bout 9pm.  The lottery numbers was about to come up and I was all ready to look at what I got.  I don’t nevah win but I play.  Some call it gambling but I don’t see no harm in pickin a few numbers and maybe git a few dollars off it.  Ain’t like no casino.  Anyway, I had all ma tickets spread out and I was waiting for that woman to pull the balls that bounce around in the air puffer that make them move round.  I suppose I nevah heard them numbers cause all the sudden the door was knocked down clear off the hinges.  There stood Officer Miller.  He wad out breath an he aksed me where I keep ma crapper.  I toll him dat ain’t no way to enter a person’s home and ain’t no way to aks where the bathroom at.  I looked at him and say- excuse me?  The man was sweating and panting.  He removed his gun and begin to unzip his pants while he walk to the washroom.  He slammed the door began a moaning and crying.  I believe it wad comin from both ends on him.  Now this went on foh a good few minutes maybe five.”

                Officer Miller recalled stopping off for lunch and eating something with sour cream.  The cream was truly sour.  It hit Miller when the call went out that ten squads were needed to quell a gun fight at a housing project.  Miller began to sweat and it felt as though he had rodents running through his intestines.  He felt waves of nausea come and go and had to use all the muscles possible to keep from shitting in his pants.  Miller turned to his partner, Officer Termini and told him to stop the car.  Termini told Miller that it would not be possible.

                “Are you fucking nuts?  You want me to stop now so you can take a shit?!  If I stop, every car behind us is stopping too.  I can’t do it.  You’ll just have to fucking hold it,” said Termini.

                “You have to stop or I’m going to shit my pants.  I’m sick.  Something is wrong and I have to fucking go now,” said Miller.

                Termini drove faster and told Miller he could just shit in the field when the got there and hope that he wouldn’t be shot while relieving himself.  When all twenty cars pulled up, Miller went into the trunk and pulled out the battering ram.  It was a heavy cylinder shaped metal with two handles meant to break doors down with.  Miller found the first door he could reach and broke down the door without knocking.  Once in the bathroom, the shit poured from Miller’s ass while vomit flew from his mouth.  Miller turned his head while sitting on the toilet and filled the sink with vomit.  It felt as though the end of the world had arrived for Officer Miller.  After five minutes of expelling food and fluids from every orifice possible, Miller opened a small window and closed the door behind him.  His shirt was drenched from sweat.  Dorothy looked at the man who looked like he was about to pass out and guided him to the couch and laid him down.  She wet a washcloth and put it across Officer Miller’s forehead and held his hands.

                “You gone be alright, baby.  You jus sick.  You coulda knocked and I woulda opened up but now I understand what you was up against.”

                “Ma’am…  I’m so sorry.  I will have this door fixed immediately and get cleaners in here for your bathroom.  I feel so bad about this, ma’am.”

                While Dorothy and Miller spoke to one another, gun fire popped in the night like popcorn in a popcorn maker.  It was nothing new to either Dorothy or Officer Miller.  Both were used to hearing gun fire.  After all- it was Chicago and a part of Chicago where nobody white ever went unless they had to.  It was poor and gang infested.  Dorothy was just a widowed church going elderly lady who kept to herself.  The gangsters knew it and left her alone.

                “And so…  I don’t know what you all fixin to do to these here gentlemen.  They might be wrong or jus doin they job.  It ain’t foh me t’say.  I can tell you this- Officer Miller was in a bad state that day and he had nothing to do with deaths or gun fire dat day.  I ain’t got no reason to lie nor stretch the truth.  God as my witness- this man look like he wad gone die on ma couch.  Officer Miller was a man of his word.  He got someone to install a new door dat night.  In a day, I got it painted.  I had two Polish women come to ma place and clean the entire bathroom.  Nice ladies but none could speak a lick of English.  I aksed them thangs and they just laughed and kept saying yes.  I say girl, what’s your name an the one laughed an jus say yes.  I jus laughed and said thank you.  So y’all do whatchu want but this man here ain’t like the rest.  Maybe he a shot someone ifin he wadn’t sick but on dat day, this man could barely stand.  He innocent as the day he born…  And dat’s all I got t’say.”

                Officer Miller was found not guilty that day.  And faith in humanity was restored to the jaded if only for a day.

Winds of Potential Change

August 17, 2015

Television blares images- the princess holding her baby is apprehensive, pensive look towards Calais

Knowing there is no way to change the ebb and flow of those who

Run from their kingdom- a mass of human destruction called Syria

Serious wringing of hands over construction of nuclear matter- does it matter?

You get a bomb, they got a bomb we have a bomb and the anxiety of what’s yet

To come.

If you conserve we preserve Federal Reserve and reservations for the indigenous and a

Prestigious candidate debating waiting for him implode to meet his fate propped by polls by those

Who see the holes in the road leading around the bend back to where we stand in the slipping

Sand- building Berlinish walls at the Rio Grande for the Grand Old Party going the way of Whigs

Stand tall and shake a big twig for the greatest country you never met- Tremendous debt and a genuflect towards a Chinese syndrome of the purchase of consumer not-so-goods

Come back to bed, dear- it’s only the wind of potential change in the age of climate changing back to the times of dinosaurs, pre-historic ingenuity- igneous, porous blind faith in the ability of the electorate to find the protectorate of this really great way of living- with liberty and justice for all… or at least some.

You Might Be A Racist…

November 18, 2014

You don’t need to wear a swastika or white pointed hat to be a racist.
We all claim to not be the “asshole”- racists are people we all know.

You might be a racist if you lock your car door to the panhandling, toothless crack whore or thuggish hip-hop lad, sagging pants and a straight brim hat.

You might be a racist if you feel the brownish people are here to steal jobs and benefits from true Americans or call all Latinos Mexicans.

You might be a racist if you voted GOP because you think the problems are the epitome of the liberal lesbian manifesto, rainbow inclusive giveaways of section 8, stirring the reactionaries before it’s too late.

You might be a racist if you think it’s okay to call all Asians Chinks. To mock the Indian man at 7-11 and think Muslims will kill themselves to send you to heaven.

You may be a racist if you think all your problems are because of the pink, pasty, blue eyed devils in the burbs, manicured blonds, lawns, giant homes and BMWs along the curbs.

You might be racist, sexist and a misogynist. A homophobic, xenophobic isolationist.
You may not believe this is true- the racist out there is probably you.

Galaxy of Complexity

September 23, 2014

Looking for a path to the road

Beads of sweat, appear quiet, contained

Ready to explode.

Hypertension wire

Inner fire

Balancing act at the funeral pyre

Soup du jour

I’m sure you know

I’m sure you hear

The talking heads while you sit in bed

African kidnappings, beheadings, Isis, never ending crisis

Of humanity, Ukraine and we crane our necks

At the accident on the other side.

Suicide suburban moms on a sunny day

What’s left to say that hasn’t already been said?

No knowledge or reality

The angst of finality

Purity, surety of the one next to me

Depression sets in when survival

Isn’t a necessity

Keeping faith on an angry planet

Nobody could plan it on the day you were

Born. I believe I’m not the only one in a lonely world

and a galaxy of complexity

Sleep

August 12, 2014

It’s never been clear to me, what will happen to me
Treading water in the sea of infinity.
It begins here and never ends. Right side, lop side a short ride
Through the tube of light.

It’s always worse at night contemplating the unseen, unknown, unsure reality
Somewhere out there with the trinity, Santa, tooth fairy and Easter Bunny.
What’s the expiration date? Fate, it’s worse at night waiting for sleep to come
And when it comes…

Shark week nursing home meals with Pol Pot
Broken bass strings on my upright, uptight
Flooding jeans, E Channel, English Channel, Sunday panel
Scratching heads trying to pin down what went wrong with
Winning hearts and minds
It’s a mine field of bills trying to stop me
From achieving, creating and surviving.
I just need to know how long it takes. Chasing a bus like a dog.
Swimming in an ocean with no land in view, racing a tornado in a field of wheat.
Dead relatives and a pat on the back. Faded memories dumped from a nap sack.
Stalin, Lennon, Ike and Nat Turner tell me to take it easy while we eat dinner. John sits next to George and declares we’re all sinners. From blank slates to tainted meat, I suddenlywake up from the heat. Sweating. Sleep comes hard with a busy mind.